It was a day in early springMy young son came to meHis face was creased with a little frownOf confused perplexity!“Why did they call it Silver Lake?”

Taken aback, I listened longand wondered what to sayHe raised his voiceHad I not heard? And so he tried again“Why do they call it Silver LakeWHY do they call it SILVER LAKEIt looks like muck to me!”

I took a breath and calmly said“Well that was long agobut as a boy with inquiring mindyou have a right to know!”

This boy believes in Santa ClausAnd the Easter Bunny tooI’ll spin a tale that will delightChuck full of pirates in the night, smugglers, monsters, wild beastsAnd perhaps a dragon or two!

“Well now, Wee Matey, here we goWe’re a fishing village for sureAnd back in 1854 the air and water was pure.A Scotsman built a dam of logs across the river wayTrapping water to power his mill and to simmer his fiery whiskay!

S0, that’s how the lake was made!

Harmony on Silver Lake

The water was a silvery colourAnd home to fish and frogsBut in the middle, floating on top was a giant silver log.At night the log seemed to come aliveTwo eyes lit by the moon aboveRevealing a giant writhing snake A line of mercury on the lakeSlipping and sliding in shadowy light .We called him “Merk” and left him to lurkOn Silver Lake at night!

“Wow!” exclaimed my little manHis eyes a twinkling bright“But tell me more – did pirates come and did they have a fight?”“Well yes they did! How could you know?” And then the story flowed the rest of the tale in the dark foggy gloomWhen pirates fought smugglersBeneath Silver Lake moon.And Indians rescued soldiers in giant war canoesAnd bags of sterling silver And chests of silver doubloons buried on Goosy IslandClose to the silver lagoon.

The little boy was satisfiedAt least for a year or twoAnd when he raised the question nextI knew only the truth would do!“Mom. Why do they really call it Silver Lake?Does Merk still live in the muck?Did anyone find pirate treasure?“Mom. Why do they really call it Silver Lake?What happened to make this disaster?What can we do to fix it?Why does it smell like an outhouse?Why are the turtles covered in slime?What can we do to fix it?Why do we call it Silver Lake?”

“Well son, surely you remember that dayThe workmen drove into to townWith trucks and heavy equipment?And they rumbled down to the bridgeAnd their crane hit an overhead line?They were protecting us from disaster and checking for signs of weaknessIn the dam that served us so faithfullyFor a hundred and thirty some years.The dam was declared to be soundWithout needing much to be done That is where the story endsAs they drove off in the western sun!”

Forsaken but not forgottenSilver Lake is now the memory in our hearts Here it shimmers and glows in the moonlightWhile its stench tears us apart! We await those who will lead in our CountyThose with vision and courage and heartThose who look us direct in the eye Those who are able to honestly say There’s a lesson we learned from our forefathersWhere there’s the will, We can find the way!